Shrinks of the Caribbean Nighlife!
by Shippy1
Summary: POTCBTVS crossover. What if Buffy and Spike got sent back in time to Tortuga?
1. Default Chapter

It had started out as a normal Sunnydale night.  A few vampires decided they felt like getting dusted, and a demon that looked suspiciously like an overgrown carrot decided to jump her.  She had taken care of them all, gotten mud all over her new suede boots, and set off for home.  

That's when _it_ arrived.

It always came at the worst possible timing, which made perfect sense, because if it came at the right time, it couldn't be it.  Which made no sense at all, Buffy realized.  

To go home…or not.  Sighing, Buffy stopped and glared at the nearest tree.  There were pros to going home, of course.  It was the right thing to do, she had to take care of her sister, make sure her best friend didn't go kablooey, and attempt to make breakfast the following morning, which required her to be awake and moving the following morning.  So all signs pointed towards going home, crawling into bed, plugging her nose against the garlic, and falling asleep.

Which was what any normal slayer would do, therefore, it was what she would do.  Right.  

But…just a few feet away from her, the most gorgeous body in the world – _Angel, think Angel – _was probably getting trashed for the night.  And it really couldn't be expected of any girl to pass that up.  Especially not one who had just been dragged out of Heaven.  Those kinds of girls had special privileges, Buffy was sure.

            "Prepare to die, slayer!"

Annoyed, she glared at the orange demon in front of her.  One that looked strangely like…hang on.

            "I already killed you!" she said, stalking forward.  "My job is hard enough without having to kill everything twice."

            "You killed my mate," wailed carrot top.  

            "Oh," Buffy said, stopping to consider.  "I'm sorry?"

The demon gave a great sniff before pulling something she couldn't mistake out and fiddling with it.  Impatiently, Buffy watched.  Was it?  Yes, it was.  The stupid thing had taken out knitting needles

            "Slayer!" 

            "I didn't mean to kill your mate," Buffy threw back, not turning around until two strong arms grabbed her from behind and twisted her around.

            "When did you kill Dru?" Spike demanded.

He was poised for action, every fold on the duster perfectly folded, and jaw set in a resolute expression – the big bad himself.  Buffy cracked up.

            "S-Sorry," she wheezed, holding her side.  "I thought it was – did you say Druscilla is your mate?"

The big bad deflated and contemplated his boots.

            "Dru?  No, course not."

            "You pig!" Buffy exclaimed.  "You insufferable, lying, cheating, pig!  You said you loved me and you're mated to vamp-ho?"

            "You told me to get lost, remember?" he growled at her.

            "Since when do you listen to me?  You're already mated, it's like you're married.  You…you're cheating on Dru, that's what you're doing!  I was right about you, you evil, soulless twerp."

            "Watch who you're calling twerp," he screeched back.  "You should talk, miss –  Oh, I'll never love anyone as much as I've loved my big broodying pooh bear, even though he's shacked up in LA and still thinks I'm 15 – "

            "Ahem."

            "Don't you ahem me, you asshole!" Buffy burst out, grabbing his ear and yanking.

            "Ahem."

            "Yeeeoow!  Slayer, that wasn't me!"

            "It wasn't?" Buffy asked, frowning.  

            "Ahem," came the most pronounced cough yet, and they both turned to carrot.

The demon seemed to have finished knitting what looked a big, blue, sock, and was no staring up at them, cringing.

            "I'm terribly sorry, but violence disturbs me.  My mate and I, we were peace loving demons," he said dreamily, then frowned.  "That is, until you killed her.  So I'll have to send you…yes, that's it.  I'll send you there, and maybe he'll help sort you out.  Because you, slayer, have some serious anger management issues."

            "Were you a health teacher in your past life?" Buffy asked, astounded.  The demon knew more big words than she did.  

            "It's impolite to ask so many questions," carot tisked.  "No, don't point your finger at me with your mouth open in that unbecoming way," he corrected again.  "It isn't ladylike."

            "Ladylike?" Buffy shouted, turning back to Spike.  "I think we should kill it."

            "I agree, love," Spike nodded, getting ready for attack.  "Annoying little bugger."

Buffy put on her resolve face, and tensed her muscles, preparing to spring.  

            "Aren't you gonna go kill it?" Spike asked after a few seconds.

            "I can't move," Buffy pouted, lower lip quivering.  

            "That was a necessary step," the demon said, circling them and waving his sock around.  "It wouldn't do your issues any good to kill me, you see, so I had to immobilize you."

            "I have no issues!  Tell him I have no issues, Spike!"

He looked down, biting his lip.  Buffy let out an enraged shreak.

            "So you think I have issues too?  Someone isn't gonna get laid for the next eternity."

            "Last I heard, I wasn't going to get laid for this eternity either!"

The demon kept circling, occasionally taking out a glowing substance from his sock and throwing it at the arguing couple, who were still going at it.

            "You're just so damned arrogant – "

            "I'm arrogant?  You're the queen of the inferiority complex!"

            "I don't have a complex!"

The demon threw one last pinch of the blue glitter directly at Buffy and Spike.  The trees in the clearing began to shift, the ground rumbled, the grass turned more blue, and the electric poles vanished.  The carrot demon smiled serenely and vanished.

            "My dad cared more about his sluts than he did for me!"

            "Mine was a drunk old fool and look at how normal I turned out!"

            "Normal?  It just proves what a freak you are that you even think that you're normal!"

            "Whereas you – wait a second…"

            "What?" Buffy asked, hands on her hips.

Frowning, Spike stared around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

            "Where the bloody hell are we?"


	2. Chapter 2

That was a fair question, Buffy decided, as she blinked hazily.  The surroundings were coming in and out of focus; blue and brown colors were swimming around her.  Dizzy, she stumbled and jerked forward, only to be caught in Spike's arms.

            "Careful there, love," he said against her ear.  "Unless you fancy takin' a swim?"

A swim?  Swimming involved water, and they'd been standing on grass only a few seconds ago, and now it was all brown and wooden, and right below them was…oh.  Ocean water.  They were on a dock.

            "What did you do," she moaned, clutching her head.  

            "Regret to tell you that I'm as innocent as you are in this mess," he old her absently, looking around.

            "Like you could ever be innocent."

The raging headache seemed to have mostly cleared up, and Buffy was able to stand up and open her eyes.  _Don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto…_

            "You killed the wrong carrot," Spike grinned, whipping his hand across his eyes.  "We seem to have been transferred somewhere.  A long way, I think, cause this place is as 'ar from Sunnydale as you can get."

            _Well, fuck._

"But we can get back, right?" Buffy said, unable to keep the panic from her voice.  "God, that stupid vegetable, I'm going to kill it!"

She glared at him, with his would-be-innocent eyes, and smirk, and the sun's ray falling across his face…

            "Spike!" she shrieked, instinctively throwing herself on top of him.  They tumbled down on the dock, and Spike swore.

            "If you'd wanted to jump my bones this much, Summers, all you 'ad to do was ask."

            "The sun, you idiot.  It's the middle of the day, and you're in the sun, and you aren't burning."

His eyes widened, and he stopped struggling.  Then he felt it.  Warmth falling all over his face, and arms, and any part of him that wasn't covered in slayer.  Come to think of it, the part of him that had slayer on top of it seemed just as happy as the part that got sun.  

            "You aright, mate?" Came a voice from somewhere on top of them.

Buffy looked up.

A man was leaning over them, concern visible on his scarred face.  He frowned, waving his hand in front of her face.

            "Alive down there?" he asked again.

            "Y-yes," she stuttered, struggling to get off of Spike.  The man regarded them curiously, hands tucked into his trousers.  _Trousers?  _"Erm…where exactly are we?"

Spike rose as well, frowning as the sun beat harmlessly upon his skin.  

            "Yer in Tortuga, mateys," the man said.  "Everyone knows Tortuga."

Buffy opened her mouth and closed it a few times.  They were in Tortuga with a man who looked like he had stepped out of a bad pirate movie.  Sunnydale had vanished.  

            "Thanks mate," Spike said, sensing the slayer about to erupt.  "Sorry to bother ya."

Grasping her firmly by the arm, he pulled her away from the dock and into the crowded streets.  

            "Spike?" 

Steeling himself for screaming and instinctively bringing up his hand to shield his nose, he sighed.  

            "Yes love?"

            "Where's the pavement?"

Frowning, he looked towards where she was pointing.  The narrow streets were full to bursting with people running around in tunics, open shirts, and trousers that had gone out of fashion before he got turned.  

            "Pet," he started cautiously.  "It appears that your demon friend transferred us back a little bit."

            "Little bit?  How little, Spike?"

Christ, she looked gorgeous, her jaw set, fists clenched, whole body radiating power.  _And this is a good thing?_

            "Century back, the way I figure.  Not quite sure."

            "A century," she muttered.  "Which would be why I'm in a dress and you're in –" _Spike chest, chest of Spike, open shirt, baggy pants…_

"Right," he agreed, looking down at himself as well, then checking out her outfit and smiling.  "My slayer, we should do this more often.  Look mighty fetching in that gown, you do."

            "Shut up, Spike," she said with finality.  

He shrugged, taking in the sight of her, all flushed and angry with breasts popping out of the tight dress she was wearing.  He'd have to remember to thank Carrot later, assuming they ever got out of this place.  

            "I think we're in a fishing village," he said, inhaling deeply.  "Trading port, maybe.  

Buffy inhaled as well, chocking on the prominent smell of fish and urine.  

            "This is like, pirate age!"

He eyed a few of the swaggering men at a tavern entrance, saw the glint of their gold teeth and swords.

            "Yeah, think you're right there pet."

                                                ~*~

            "They be mighty strange to me, George."

The man who'd first spotted them shrugged, watching as the couple made walked along the street.

            "Could be.  Or, could be just a few random weirdos, mate.  Never can tell."

            "Still," mused another man.  "We probably should…"

George sighed, cracking his knuckles.

            "I reckon you're right.  Could lose us our heads if he found out we'd seen strange fold and not reported to him."

            "Strange man, Jack Sparrow," his friend agreed.  "They say that since he got off that island, been touched in the head a bit."

            "Pays good money to be kept informed though…we better go.  He'll be at the tavern, can get a few drinks while we're there." 

  
Online Jewelry Stores 


	3. Chapter 3

            "Umm…Spike?  What's that?"  
  
He turned to the store window she was pointing at and bit back a grin.  

            "That Slayer, is a toy."

            "No, it can't be," she said, frowning.  "It's in the shop with all the bottles of lotion and romantic stuff.  Maybe it's a massager?"

            "Certain kind of massage, yes."

She gave him a quizzical look before seeing the notice tacked on the wooden door of the shop and squinting.

            "Pleasure Island," she read.  "Home to the wildest toys…oh.  You told me it was a massager!"

            "To be fair love, you said it was a massager."

            "Well, you didn't correct me!  It's like a big, huge –" her voice dropped and she turned red " – vibrator thing."

            "That it is," he agreed, giving her a sloe eyed look.  "Want a demonstration, pet?"

            "Bastard."

            "Bitch."

            "Vampire asshole."

            "Slayer with more issues than the Titanic."

            "For the last time, I have no issues!  Issueless me.  And like you've even seen the Titanic."

            "Course I have.  The movie's a bloody classic."

            "Yeah," she reminisced.  "I remember watching it with Dawn and crying.  Everyone cries when they watch that movie.  Bet even you did."

He scratched behind his neck and stared at the ground.

            "Did spill a tear, must confess love.  Which part was it for you?"

            "Which part?  There's only one cry-worthy part.  When Jack dies, and she lets him go, and then throws the necklace off…"

            "Bloody stupid place to cry," he insisted.  "Was the middle for me."

            "The middle!" she shrieked.  "The middle's happy.  Why would you cry?"

            "Appreciated the topless girl a bit too much, and Dru decided she wanted to punish me.  Got a little out of hand."

Buffy shut her mouth, speechless.  Then she began to laugh.  Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and gave him a quick squeeze.

            "Only you, Spike," she said with something akin to tenderness, "Would say that."

            "Yeah," he agreed, eyeing her warily.  The slayer was smiling and holding his hand.  Was she on drugs?

            "We should get some more information about where we are," she commented, looking around.  "There's a tavern right across the street, we could go there."

Shrugging, he followed her to the wooden door, and they stepped in.  

The smell of alcohol was the first thing that hit her.  Not beer, but some specific kind that she'd smelled somewhere before, but couldn't remember where.  Men were crowded at the tables, some on benches, some on the floor.  Women were all over the place too, serving drinks or lolling around the men's laps.    

            "Welcome," Spike said in her ear, "To the past millennia."

Pressing his hand into her back, he led her to a free table, gesturing for a waitress to come to them.  He was fitting right in, Buffy noticed, graceful and catlike, sprawled on his chair.  

Her stomach rumbled and she looked around anxiously for the waitress, hoping she'd get there soon.  When footsteps were heard at the foot of their table she smiled.

            "Could we get some chicken please?  Or maybe some soup, or something?  What are your specials?"

            "That all depends, girly, on what yer here for," said a voice that was decidedly not female.


	4. Chapter 4

When she spun around to stare at the stranger, her thoughts weren't what they were supposed to be. The correct thing to have wandering through one's mind at a time like this was whether the man was dangerous or not. Thoughts like 'woah…hot' or 'take me, take me now' were definitely not acceptable. And 'I wonder if I could get Spike to put on makeup' was worse still. Only one thing to do – resolve face.  
  
        "I'm here to get something to eat," Buffy said coolly.  
  
The stranger swayed on the balls of his feet and grinned at her.  
  
         "One..two…no three, bout time you old bugger," he muttered.  
  
         "If you're not a waiter, I think you should leave now," Buffy said stiffly as he continued to make hand motions.  
  
          "Best do what the lady says, mate," Spike agreed, comfortably kicking his feet up onto the table.  
  
Suddenly businesslike, the stranger stood up straighter.  
  
           "I'm gonna need you to get up now, savvy? Go on, spin 'round there so I can look at you."  
  
            "Spin around?" Buffy exclaimed in outrage. "You go spin around, you asshole."  
  
            "Name's Jack, girly. Captain Jack Sparrow to you, and don't be forgetting it."  
  
            "Well, Captain Jack Sparrow," Buffy bit out, sarcasm flying, "Go away."  
  
             "Can't do that love, doin' an old friend a favor."  
  
             "Hang on," Spike said, frowning. "Old friend…not that orange geezer that sent us here?"  
  
              "So you know Ernie," Jack Sparrow replied, looking pleased. "Then best get down to the nitty gritty, mate. You two have issues. I'm here to solve them."  
  
The next thing Captain Jack Sparrow saw was the grass outside the tavern door and the bits of wood he had brought with him when he flew through the wall.   
  
             "I have NOT got issues," screeched a voice somewhere up above him.

"Beg to differ, love," Jack grunted, trying and failing to rise off the floor.  "But nothin' a few sessions with me wouldn't cure.  Then you and him could be on your way, shaggin' happily."

            "Look," Buffy said, crossing her hands over her breasts.  "I don't know who you are, or what we're doing here.  I'm confused.  See?  Confus-y Buffy.  But there's two things I'm 100% sure of.  I have NOT got issues.  And I do NOT need your help.  So, Captain Jack Sparrow, go back to the mother ship."

To her surprise, for the first time, Jack Sparrow lost that aggravating _(sexy) _leer.  

            "'m afraid that's completely out of the question.  You see, my Pearl's been invaded.  And it's all the damn monkeys fault."

            "The mon –"

            "Now hang on a minute," Spike said, stepping forward thoughtfully.  "You're serious bout this, are you?  'f you put her through a few sessions, Buffy'll be alright again?  And did you mention shaggin?"

            "What?  Since when am I not allright?  I'm perfectly fine thank you, and you!"

            "Well, to be honest, love," he mumbled, looking down.  "There's been a few changes since you came back from…"

            "There have been no changes!" she shrieked, jumping forward and punching him in the nose.

            "Bloody 'ell!" Spike roared.  "Why you gotta do that?  'm nose still isn't healed from the last time you killed it!  'an I'm a bloody vampire!"  Clutching his bleeding nose, he turned helplessly to Jack.  "D'you see this?  Like a sodding punching bag, I am!  No respect whatsoever."

            "Ay," Jack said, nodding wisely.  "We'll need to fix that."

Biting her lip, Buffy blinked hard and opened her eyes wide.

            "Spike?"

He steadfastly remained turned away from her.

            "Spike?  Please, Spike?  Look, I'm sorry, okay?  It's just that it's been so hard…with coming back from heaven, and all, and you're the only one who's there for me…not that of course, I want you to be there for me or anything," she concluded, sniffling.  

Instantly sorry, Spike hesitantly ran his hand down her hair.

            "Don't worry about it," he said quietly.  

At a loud cough, both turned back to where Jack Sparrow was leaning against a nearby table.

            "Now that that's all done, here's the game plan, savvy?  Now, we're gonna engage the both of yas in some good, strong therapy.  Then, we're gonna get back my ship from the goddamned monkey.  And at the opportune moment, after everythin's done, you two'll be goin' back to wherever you came from.  An' I don't wan' any arguments outta either of ya, hear?"

Properly chastised, Buffy and Spike nodded.

            "So, are we starting the therapy now?" she asked meekly.

            "No, 's not the right time yet.  Right now, we're going to find rum."


	5. Chapter 5

Authors note: It's another short one – but at least it didn't take me two months to get it out!  Thanks so much for your reviews, they really mean a lot to me!  And really quicken the writing process!  The more I get, the faster the writing comes ;)

As it turned out, the women at the bar were more than willing to supply Jack with all the rum he could swallow.  And after he couldn't swallow any more, the ever so helpful women (tramps) practically climbed on his lap to mouth-to-mouth the rum.

Not that Jack minded.

            "Now sees here, matey's," He let out a gigantic burp.  "'ere's what we'res gonna do."

            "Provided, of course, that you can stand," Buffy shot back, nose in the air.

He gave her a glare from behind whoever was on top of him at the moment.

            "I's can stands up just fine," he assured, watching with some amusement as the girl on his lap fell off with a shriek as he rose.  

            "So…this is our therapy?  Watching you drink yourself into a stupor?"

Jack swaggered up to her, crashing a few tables in the process.

            "No, lassie, this here's just preparation.  Cause see, when you've got such dunderbrains before ya, rum just give a little perspective, dinnit?"

            "'s gotta point," Spike commented fairly.

Jack closed his eyes.

_*Thump*_

            "Bloody 'ell slayer, what'd you do that for?"

            "You idiot!  Why did you side with him?  What happened to supporting me?"

            "What, now I can't give my own bloody opinion?"

            "It's a bad opinion!"

            "May I remind you, slayer, that this country, along with the shitty alcohol, hippies, and lack of flowering onions in most pubs, has a bloody free speech policy."

Buffy paused, looking confused.

            "Bill of rights, slayer!  Where were you in history class?"

            "I was rescuing the world from vampires like you!"

            "Well I'm dead, an' you don't see that stoppin' the learning process!"

            "WHAT learning process?"

            "Bloody bitch!  I finished –"

            "You probably never even went to college!"

            "Finished at the top of my class."

            "Huh?"

Buffy took a minute to imagine Spike, with the sexy red graduation cap and the tassel hanging down, touching his mouth.  And the robe.  With nothing underneath.

            "Yeah, I can sort of see you in college," she amended, giving him a smile.

He gave her a soft smile in return, which turned into a wince as loud clapping filled the room.

            "Ex'lent!  Really, well done," Jack crowed, having obtained a new bottle of some amber substance.  Another appeared in his hand, and he tossed it to Spike.  "First step's done."

            "First step…of our therapy?"

Jack nodded vigorously.  

            "See that?  See how you both handled that?  Came to an understanding, you did.  Right way to go.  Now, 'ere comes the hard part."

Buffy linked hands with Spike for support.

            "I'm gonna as' you queszions now, I am.  And you two – you answer.  Savvy?"

            "Uh-huh?"

            "Bloody hell."

Jack settled himself comfortably in his chair, took out a worn green book, and crossed his legs on the table.

            "How do you feel about the death of your wife," he asked, expression fixed in a serious yet caring, professional smile.

            "You're saying I'm a lesbian?!"  

            "I had a wife?"

Cringing apologetically, Jack looked down.

            "Was one the wrong page," he explained, flipping.  "Ah…here we go."

And next chapter, the therapy actually starts.  Promise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors Note:** _Another long wait!  I'm so sorry…just so busy with my millions of exams, and homework, and all the stuff.  I know it isn't an excuse, but it's the reason.  If there's anyone still reading this, please review!  I just found one I'd missed in my inbox today, and it inspired me to get off my ass and write a chapter, however short.  So I'm not kidding when I say reviews help.  Anyway.  Hope you enjoy this!  Will try to get the next chappy out soon._

"Now hold hands," Jack commanded, leaning back comfortably.  "Face each other and try to clear your mind of all anger.  Like mine, see?  Rum cleared it of everything, it did.  Blessed drink."

Buffy and Spike exchanged encouraging smiles, and did as told.

            "Now, repeat after me." Jack said.  "I am your partner, not your parent."

            "I am your parent, not your partner," Buffy said obediently, and flashed Jack a smile.  

            "What the bloody hell is this?" Spike roared.

Sighing, Jack made a mark in his book, muttering.

            "We'll start simply," he amended.  "Buffy.  How did you find out about this program?"

            "In simple words?" she said dubdiously.  "Well, okay.  Spike and I were patrolling when this carrot demon popped up and started knitting this sock thing, then it talked to us, which is kinda strange, cause usually they just try to kill you, ya know?  But anyway.  He zapped us back here, then Spike showed me what a massager was, and we came in here, and you decided to tharipify us!"

            "What she said," Spike agreed.

            "Gonna give you a scenario now," Jack continued, shaking his head.  "Say, for instance, we have two people in a relationship.  Mate number one wants to do manly things.  Pillage, plunder, and so much more.  And above all, he rightly wants the biggest cabin.  Savvy?  Now, we have his girly.  She wants the biggest cabin too!  Says that after carrying round his brats all day, she deserves a good bloody rest.  Now this here," Jack gestured wildly with his hands, so no one could possibly miss the issue.  "This here is a conflict.  And I wan' you both to tell me how you'd solve said problem.  Write it down on there scraps, and then give 'em to me."

Pausing for a moment to think, Buffy smiled and accepted the writing materials, then stuck her tongue between her teeth and started to write.  

Spike gave her a soft smile, also taking the paper and writing his thoughts down.   

Jack saluted them both and drank his toast down with rum.  For purely their benefit, of course.

When both pieces of parchment were back in his hands, he briefly consulted the book, and formulated a plan of action.

            "Gonna read these out loud," he stated.  "Then we'll go over them and see how to make a compromise.  Buffy's goes first."  He cleared his throat, adjusted his beads, and started to read.

~

            _Who should get the bed?  By Buffy Anne Summers.  AKA: Slayer, the._

This is such a simple question, that I don't understand why it needs to be on this couple therapy thing.  There's an obvious answer, and no compromise is needed.  The girl will get the bed, and the guy can sleep on the floor.  Like, duh!  The girl obviously has been through a lot.  She's been deserted by every male in her life – can we say not cool here?  She works hard, she takes on responsibility and does so many things she doesn't want to do.  Hello!  Her whole life is like suffering.  So it's the duty of the guy to give her all he can, and she obviously wants the bed, so there.  What's the problem?

~

Jack looked up in disbelief, expecting to see the same expression on Spike's face.  Instead, the vampire was merely shrugging, as though what the bit was blabbering about was perfectly all right.  Where was the manly pride here?  And the girl!  To say self satisfied would be saying too much.  She was calmly sitting, 100% sure that what she had written was reasonable.  This was really too bloody much.

            "Alright then," he said.  Now, here's what Spike said."

~

Well, answer's bloody obvious, innit?  Don't bullshit me bout some guy and girl, since this is our fucking therapy, I'm gonna rightly assume you're talking about the Slayer and me.  Now, she's had a hard lot.  Angelus screwed her over rightly, and Captain Cardboard didn't do her any favors.  So she can have the bloody bed.  And I'll be lucky if she lets me sleep on the floor.  Gonna do my best to take care of her, and isn't that hard to let her have that much.  Deserves it, she does.  So yeah.  That's it.

~

Spike gave Buffy a shy smile, then froze when she didn't return it.  Indeed, the slayer seemed frozen, still staring at Jack with something akin to despair in her eyes.  The pirate nodded compatibly at her a few times, then turned to Spike.

            "Mind giving us a few secs, mate?  Promise I won't try an' steal your lady."

            "Uh…sure.  I'll be outside."

Confused, Spike threw Buffy one last bewildered glance before closing the tavern door behind him.  Only then did Jack turn to Buffy.

            "You get it now, girl?  Or do I gotta beat it into ya some more?"

            "Yes," Buffy said, sniffing slightly.  "I think I get it."

World's most satisfied grin on his face, Jack happily bounced in his seat and poured them both some rum to celebrate. 

            "Good girl.  You're quite lovely, you know that?  Remind me of another girl, a little.  But she smiled more.  And god damn, she was beautiful.  Anyway.  Now you're gonna explain it all to me, and tell 'ol Jack the plan of action, savvy?  How you're gonna make it work with the boy, who, just in passing, is pretty damn lovely himself."

            "Yeah, you're right.  I'll tell you exactly what I'm gonna do, cause I'm gonna make this work."  Buffy paused.  "Hang on – how can you think Spike's lovely?  Not that he isn't, you know, cause he so is.  The purring thing?  Sweetest sound ever.  But you're like…a guy."

            "Don't have to be a lass to appreciate, girly," Jack said slyly, giving her a wink.  "Now, tell me everything."


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors note: ::waves:: Me again.  Thank you for the reviews I got last time, and hope you enjoy this part.  A few more chapters to go, I think.**

Jack crossed his arms and put on an expression of utmost attention.  

            "Ready when you are, Miss. Summers," he said comfortably.

            "I can't do this," she whispered.

There wasn't much to say for that expression she got when she was upset.  Mouth pursed to look like a puckered prune, eyes cold and dead.  What had men jumping hoops for this one was beyond him.

            "Now look 'ere," he said patiently.  "We did step two.  Step two involved you seeing your mistakes, because your boy there, he's gonna take the crumbs you throw and not say a bloody word.  An' I got places to be."

            "B-but…it's not my fault!  You don't understand, you don't know anything about my life.  I'm going to die – again.  For the third time, and possibly very soon.  My best friend's a magic whore, my sister shouldn't exist.  Everyone…everyone leaves.  Dies.  And I'm all alone.  But I have to do the right thing, be the right person, because that's who I fucking am, and I can't fucking disappoint anyone else and –" she broke off.

            "What can I say, love, you got a bad lot in life.  Not the only one who does.  But you've got this man, who'll do anything for you.  Who bloody worships the ground you walk on.  An' all you can do is hurt him."

            "All I'm good at, isn't it," she muttered.

            "Oy!  Stop that, now.  This's getting' a mite too depressing.  And pointless."

            "Well, I'm so sorry if my life depresses you!"

            "Oh you got me wrong, darling.  S'not your life at all, 's all you.  You may have a short time left, yeah.  So you gonna waste that time waddling in past sorrows?  Let the past cloud everythin' you do?"

            "Your past makes you who you are!"

A seconds pause, and she found herself being hauled up against a strong body.

            "Now thas where you're partially wrong, love.  See these?"

One handed, he pointed to an array of scars and tattoos that lined his arm.  

            "There's the past.  Ever been left on a deserted island to die, Miss. Summers?  I can tell you it's not a pleasant thing.  'Specially when the view from said island is the most precious thing you have sailing away."

            "Your wife?"

            "My bloody ship.  Now keep quiet 'an lemme talk.  Bloody Barbossa took 'er from me, but I got 'er back, see?  That's the future.  My future, on the Pearl.  And goin' against odds to get her back is movin' out of your past and into what's to come."

            "Oh."

Finally, some progress.

            "Yeah, pet.  Oh.  Now, does 'e love you?"

            "Yes."

            "Do you love 'im?"

            "It's wrong…" A token protest.

            "Didn't ask if it was right or wrong, asked if you loved him.  One word answer here, Buffy."

            "I-I can't!"

He gripped her shoulders roughly and pulled her closer still.  Buffy could smell his rum-tinged breath and shuddered.

            "Do. You. Love. Him."

She dropped her head and for a second Jack feared another bout of screeching was coming.  But then her face lifted, and her lips quirked into a sad smile.

            "Yeah.  I do."


	8. Chapter 8

_Authors note: Ah, there!  Pretty good update speed this time.  Thanks as always for the reviews, and hope you enjoy this latest chapter, which is, unfortunately, very short.  Next one will be extra long to make up for it.  Looking forward to hearing what you think!  My original review number goal was 50, and even though I'm nowhere near, every single one is appreciated and read and reread._

There should have been fireworks.  Some explosions, maybe.  Something grand or loud or unusual.  But there was nothing.  Just the same sounds of the tavern, and the faint but steady swish of waves lapping at the shore.  

But something _extraordinary_ had happened.  Buffy Summers had fallen in love.  If you wanted to get technical, of course, she hadn't actually fallen in love as much as admitted her love for someone.  Namely, a vampire.  

Jack thought that warranted a few natural disasters as celebration.

            "Congratulations, Miss. Summers," he told her.  "You've completed your therapy."

No response.

            "Miss. Summers?" One hand waved diligently in front of her face.  "No time to fall asleep on me, girl!  Time for celebration, this is.  Time for…rum.  And I'll even get it for ya."

As the over energetic pirate bounded away, Buffy shook her head slowly, trying to clear her mind.  She was in love…with Spike.  Something that should have been terrifying, yet for some reason, wasn't.  Something that was unnatural, but so right at the same time.  Something that was, inexplicably, her.  It was her, and it was Spike, and that was good.

And she needed to tell him.

Needed to stand before him and look him in the eye, and tell him honestly what she felt.  Because he deserved that.  And because they deserved it.  Calling him to come to her would be too easy, besides, it was her turn to come to him and lay down her pride for the sake of what they might have.

It was terrifying.  But it would be worth it.


End file.
